Bless Me Father
by KSUnsungHero
Summary: Then you look at me. You're not shouting anymore. You're silently broken.


"Then you look at me  
You're not shouting anymore  
You're silently broken"- Forgive Me by Evanescence

The lights around him swirled around, creating an almost carnival-like effect. His stomach lurched at the thought of cotton candy or funnel cakes, doused with way too much powdered sugar. He knew there was something he'd forgotten to do, yet in his inebriated state, he just couldn't remember what that was. Until the barkeep had to bring it up.

"Lemme me call your lady friend again." Joe walked over and nudged the man. He tried not to laugh at the way he was clinging to the bar as if it were keeping him afloat in a storm-tossed sea. "Gimme your phone. Might as well write her number down for myself. An idiot like you shouldn't let a pretty woman like that go to waste." He pressed the arrow to get to the phone book and hit the 'send' button. Of course, she was his number one.

"Not again, Joey." The voice on the other line sounded tired, exhausted from many hours of work. He didn't know what the man's occupation was, but he'd always come in looking haggard and worn; same with his girl. Well, his soon-to-be former girl. No woman in her right mind would put up with that. Once, maybe. Not that many times, though. He didn't know who he felt worse for; him or her. For the third time that week, he stuck the phone back into the man's pocket and left him be.

Fifteen minutes later, she blew in, only this time there was a different air about her; one that just screamed of this moment being the last. The last of many. The last time she'd come to drag her drunken partner out of a bar at three in the morning. The last time she'd let her guard down just to have him remind her why she put it up in the first place. No longer would she try to keep him anchored when she, herself, was being washed away. No, she would not do it again. None of it. She would not let him go, though. She wouldn't give him ammunition to fuel the fire. He'd damn well better start groveling if he knew what was good for him. Chances are he didn't.

She sighed once, twice, and a third time. Making her way to the slumped figure at the bar, she fished his wallet out and slapped a twenty down. "Get up, Elliot." She shook him roughly and jumped back to avoid being in the line of fire of any projectiles flying in her direction. She'd learned after the first time. "I'm only going to tell you twice. Get up, or I'm calling a cab to take your ass back home."

"Liv? You're my number one, Liv." Something awoke in Elliot's brain, and he stared at her in confusion until he half-realized what was going on. "I'm drunk again."

"Yeah, and you're my number one pain-in-the ass, Elliot." She ran a hand through her hair and stared up at the ceiling as if to ask the powers that be why they'd chosen her to unleash their fury on.

"Yeah." Elliot pushed off of the bar and stood. He clamped his eyes shut against the spinning sensation. "Damn tea cup rides." He let out a huff and stalked to the door. When it wouldn't open, he pushed again. "Damnit!"

"You're going to break it. Just let go of the handle. That's the janitor's closet. Just…come on." She led him over to the right to an adjacent door. At least he had the general direction correct. She called over her shoulder a thanks to the other man in her life as of late, a thirty-something with a charming smile and infectious laugh. If it were another time and place…

"I'll wait here while you get the car." He leaned against the brick and rested his face against the rough surface. "Gonna' hang out here."

"That _is_ my car, Elliot." Olivia unlocked the passenger side and went around the front of the car to unlock hers. She peered over the top before getting in. "Get in, Elliot!" She watched him stagger to the door. She rolled her eyes when he couldn't figure out the handle.

"Thanks for your help, _partner_." He glared at her and, amazingly, was able to get his lap belt by himself.

"I hope you're thanking me for picking you up, yet again, in the middle of the night." She put the car in gear and drove off. "No more. You really need to get your act together."

"I'm having a hard time, okay? You wouldn't know about that, would you? With your…your perfect family." He smirked as the words left his mouth. His brain didn't quite register what the words meant or their impact. He had a vague feeling that maybe he'd opened his mouth, but he couldn't tell. "Am I talking?"

"What do you think, Elliot?" Give him the benefit of the doubt. Her head was screaming at her to drop him like a bad habit, but her heart wasn't cooperating. They'd been together too long to let him loose now. Not after all they'd been through. She wasn't entirely sure what set him off this time, but his comment confirmed her previous suspicions. "I'm sorry if you're having problems, but I will not let you drag mine into this." There, she said it. It didn't make her feel any better. Should she have to tell her partner how much it bothered her when he reminded her of the fact that her family was less than perfect? She still felt the words sting. The force behind them was stronger than any slap in the face, any blow by some pissed off perp she'd ever received. Damn him.

"Your car smells like grease." He absently kicked the paper mat on the floor, completely unaware that the next time could be his last.

"I just had my car fixed. I know that should come as a shock to you, being that you promised to drop me off at the shop to pick it up." She glanced over before turning back to the road. "Instead, I waited for a half an hour in the cold because you swore up and down you'd be there. I should have known, I should have. After the first ten minutes, I thought you got held up with one of the guys. I should have known."

"Brakes." The word flew out of his mouth, and judging by her reaction, he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Now you remember." She felt like a fool. Stupid for letting him see how bothered she was that he hadn't come. That, as a way for making up for his recent behavior, he'd offered to save her some cab money and take her himself. At least he had the forethought to pick a bar close to his apartment. The last thing he needed was a DUI charge, or worse. "Just…don't talk, okay?" Her voice softened. She was too damn tired to argue any further. She just wanted to crawl back into her bed and forget the last few weeks ever existed.

"Olivia?" It sounded strange coming from him, using her real name. It might spur her to action even more, though. He began punching the buttons on the door with his finger, trying to find the right one before…damn.

"Can this night get any wo…nevermind. I'm not going to say it." She rolled down both windows to vent the car. Amazingly, he'd managed to get it all over the door but not one drop on himself. The smell was making her nauseous, and tears sprang to her eyes as she tired to concentrate.

"Guess it doesn't smell like motor oil anymore." He winced, expecting an outburst. He braced himself, and when it didn't come, he looked over. His system seemed as if it had just been cleaned out, and he had the ability to think more clearly. For the time being, at least. He saw the dark circles beneath tired eyes. Eyes that had seen too much. He saw the worry lines on her face from experiencing life and the horrible things one could do to another. Like a punch in the gut, he realized what he'd done. He'd broken her, and the Olivia he was seeing was too tired to rebuild age old walls. He'd done that to her. He, the only real friend she had, had taken away all that she'd ever known. The trust she'd given him, he'd thrown back at her, and all because his own life was out of control and he'd wanted someone else to feel the pain he'd been feeling.

She didn't answer him. She wasn't in the mood for wisecracks. She'd given up on keeping the peace days ago. The day he'd come in hung over. The day she'd protected him. The same day she'd earned a written warning in her jacket for looking out for him one too many times. Not anymore. She had no more of herself to give to him. Hell, she didn't think she had any to give herself. She was just living. That was all she could do anymore.

"Thank you." The haze was starting to return. Not as much, but it was still there. It was like a fog that had partially burned off, leaving a haze to sort through. He was searching for landmarks, anything to give him an idea of what he should do or say. He couldn't leave her like that, but he was in no condition to fix things just yet. With time slipping away, he turned to her, eyes pleading. "Stay the night."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Elliot." She pulled to the side of his building. An open spot on a Friday night greeted her; the only hint of having any good luck at all. She watched him get out gingerly, trying to find a dry spot to put his hand. She stifled a laugh as he poked the door open with one finger. He really was a mess, but he was her mess, and as much as she wanted to just let him fend for himself, he had no one. She hated the brotherly love she felt for him that, after all he'd put her through, could be enough for her to keep on. To keep giving him that second chance, because she knew he had it in him to get over the funk he was in. She knew she had more in herself, she just didn't know how much.

"Okay." He closed the door and debated how he was supposed to get to the stairs. He stared down at his feet, willing them to move in a forward direction.

"Just for a little bit." She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. "But only because I don't trust you not to kill yourself trying to find your bedroom."

He helped her the best he could. He even managed to hold the door for her while semi-blocking her way to the hallway. He remembered how thankful she'd been that he'd found a first floor apartment.

"Ready?" She held up her set of keys, his spare dangling from her index finger. Seeing his nod, she led him to the door and pushed it open for him to go through. She steered him down the hall and to the right to his bedroom. "I'll be in the living room."

"I'll be in here." He began unbuttoning his pants as she fled the room. Once he was clad only in his boxers and tee shirt, he flopped down on the bed. He was asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.

She closed the door behind her and sighed. She grabbed an extra blanket and pillow from the closet and settled in on the couch. It was small and as uncomfortable as she remembered. She was in for a long night, or what was left of it. She flipped on the television and turned the volume down. She chuckled as the first show to appear on the screen was some military channel show about the construction of a submarine. Her partner really was a kid at heart. She pictured him playing with GI Joe action figures when no one was looking. She set the remote down and continued watching as the commentator described all of the features of the sub. It wasn't long before she was asleep.

Hours later, Elliot stumbled into the hallway. He held a hand to his eyes as he passed the window in the bathroom. Damn sunlight. He froze when he heard the television and frowned. He couldn't remember leaving it on. Then again, the previous night seemed to be a blur. He cautiously walked to the couch and peered over the back. He ran a hand over his face, trying to decide whether to wake her or not. Her head was bent at an odd angle in the corner of the couch and her legs were tucked in as if she'd run out of room to spread them out. By the looks of it, he wasn't going to be the only one with a headache.

She felt a light tapping on her arm and rolled over, trying to get in a few more minutes of sleep. In her waking moments, she remembered where she was and instantly shot up off of the couch.

"Well, that wasn't the plan. I didn't mean to scare you." He eyed her, trying to gauge her mood. He smacked his lips and winced. He vaguely remembered getting sick but he couldn't remember where. He had a feeling he didn't want to know.

"What time is it? I need to get going." She bent her head from one side to the other, trying to loosen up her muscles.

"Well, World's Deadliest Aircraft was supposed to be on this morning, so I guess 8 or 9." He nodded toward the television set and felt a jolt of pain in his head. Definitely time for some drugs. "You didn't have to stay."

"I know I didn't. It was too late to drive home." She kept the conversation light. It wasn't the time to argue. "I'm going to head. Make sure you take something. You'll feel better, Elliot." She folded up the blanket and grabbed the pillow.

"I'll get that. Stay for breakfast." He gathered the items in his outstretched hands and stood there, awkwardly. He knew it was asking a lot for her to stick around.

"It's going to take a lot more than that to fix this. Do you even realize how big of an ass you've been?" She crossed her arms over her chest. The pain was too raw to think about. She hated that she resented him so much. "Do you know how much that hurt for you to act that way?"

"I know. I just…I don't know how to deal with this. With losing everything. I took it out on you and that's inexcusable. I can't say anything other than that I'm sorry." His eyebrows receded into his hairline, and he bit his bottom lip, anxiously. "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

She cleared her throat, hoping the lump that had formed would dissipate. She dropped her head in defeat and raised her eyes to meet his. "You were out of line. I know you're angry and you feel out of control, but I'm on your side, Elliot." She inched closer to him and stood before him on the carpet. "I can't keep doing this. I can't go through that again. I need…I need to live my life without worrying if you're going to end up dead on some subway platform. I can't take it." Her voice cracked and she turned away.

"I'm sorry you have to clean up after me. That Cragen got onto you about me coming in late. You shouldn't have covered for me. You shouldn't have done that, Liv."

"Why shouldn't I have? You would have done the same if it were me." She turned to face him once again. "Wouldn't you?"

"No, I wouldn't have, because you never would have gotten to that place. You're stronger than that." He reached out and took her arm in his free hand. "I've taken you for granted all this time." He paused and continued. "How close are you to leaving?"

"Pretty damn close. I want to leave, but I can't. I wouldn't do that to you again. Just…promise me you'll get help. Whatever it is that's brought you to this point, find a way to move on. I'm here if you need to talk. If not, then talk to someone." She intercepted his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Your kids need a father, El. No matter how old they are."

Elliot simply nodded, unable to form any words. He felt so damn guilty for putting her in that position. He wondered if it reminded her of the day Cragen told her about her mother. He wouldn't wish that on anyone. He'd really fucked it up, and he only had himself to blame.

"I'll stay for breakfast, but then I need to leave. I have to get my car cleaned." She smiled slightly and dropped his hand.

"I thought I dreamt that." He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Let's go out. We'll take my car. I'll get your car cleaned for you tomorrow." He knew he owed her far more than breakfast and a trip to the car wash, but it was a start. "I need to make a stop first, across the street."

"Okay. Put a shirt on, I'm starving." She slapped him lightly on the arm and watched him walk down the hall in his grey USMC sweats.

Fifteen minutes later, Elliot walked through the wooden double doors. He dipped his fingers into the holy water and crossed himself before walking down the side aisle to the back of the church. He walked through the narrow door and took a seat.

The little opening slid open, allowing the man a place to speak through. He had no idea what demons haunted the man on the other side. He hoped that he could grant him peace to get on with his life.

Elliot hesitated briefly as he thought of the times in the past he'd wound up in that very same place. This time, he'd never felt more sincere in his life. He owed it to her to do whatever he needed to do to rectify the rift he'd caused between them. She was right. He needed to fix things, to quit hurting her and making her pay for his misfortune. When he'd isolated her, he'd never realized how much he'd hurt her. It was time for that to stop. He took a deep breath and began. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned…"


End file.
